


Matchmaker Program

by Tarlan



Category: Eureka
Genre: Angst and Humor, Community: smallfandomfest, M/M, Merry Month of Masturbation Challenge, Trope Bingo Round 3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-26
Updated: 2014-05-26
Packaged: 2018-01-26 15:06:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1692731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tarlan/pseuds/Tarlan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Trapped in a V.R. where they're forced to live out romantic movies? It has to be Fargo's fault.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Matchmaker Program

**Author's Note:**

  * For [glitterfics](https://archiveofourown.org/users/glitterfics/gifts).



> Written for:  
>  **smallfandomfest** FEST15  
>  **Trope Bingo** Round 3: matchmaker  
>  **MMoM 2014** : DAY 26

The two words - Problem and Fargo - should have been warning enough but when had Jack ever let that stop him from jumping right in to save the day? So he really had no one else to blame when he found himself coerced into putting on Fargo's virtual reality device in order to go into some freaky world that Fargo had created - to save Stark. And by freaky he meant chick-flick freaky.

"I should have sent in Jo," he whined as he was smacked in the face by ocean spray off the bow of what was presumably the _Titanic_.

He could feel the heat of someone else standing right behind him, so close that he could also feel a very male part of that person's anatomy pressing against his ass. It reminded him of those unwanted fantasies he'd had of late, featuring his nemesis, Nathan Stark. What he hated about those fantasies was that he should have been thinking of Allison with her soft, mocha skin and gentle laugh, not Nathan Stark and his mocking eyes and incredibly soft and kissable mouth. He'd lost count of the number of times he'd come with Stark's name on his lips rather than Allison's, and all since they announced their re-engagement. The fact that it was Stark who got his engine running these days should have been more the realm of nightmares than sexual fantasies, and he'd had a hard time keeping himself under control around the guy since then.

Hard. Yeah. That about summed it up, and he'd lost count of the number of times their bickering had turned sour because Jack refused to admit out loud that his crush on Allison had faded into heated desire and lust for Stark.

"Well... this is weird."

Jack groaned as the deep, familiar voice breathed into his right ear, heard above the waves crashing off the bow as the doomed ocean liner headed towards disaster. Only then did he realize that his arms were outstretched and Stark was holding him tight around the waist. He was doomed.

Oh god! he thought suddenly, but having been forced to sit through this with Abby years ago, he knew it could have been much, much worse, recalling a steamy love scene in an old-fashioned car and a hand slapped against the steamed-up glass as the tragic couple had public sex. Okay, maybe not THAT public but still, anyone could have walked in on them. Some crewman checking the cargo. Anyone!

The scene changed and he was fucking freezing, soaked through and chilled to the bone, floating on a piece of flotsam in the middle of the ocean. In the distance he could see the _Titanic_ tipping up and sliding into the icy deep, presumably taking hundreds with her.

"Damn... it's cold. I didn't... think it... would be... so realistic," Stark stuttered, and Jack realized the only tiny amount of warmth was Stark's breath upon his face and his fingers curled with Jack's. Stark was in the water, and the iceberg floating in the distance meant the water had to be below freezing; too cold for anyone to survive more than a few minutes, and Stark was shivering violently.

"We've got to get you out of the water."

Stark raised both eyebrows. "That isn't... going to... hold... both of us."

"Then we change places," Jack stated firmly, because he was not going to let anyone die on his watch. Not if he could save them, and especially not Stark.

Jack didn't think Stark could look more surprised. "You'd... die.. for me?"

"What? Yes! No! Yes! It's in the small print of my contract... somewhere."

Stark laughed and Jack noticed that he wasn't shivering anymore and that was a BAD sign.

"It's okay. I'll... see you around, Jack."

"No. NO!"

He tried to hold onto Stark but he slipped beneath the icy water and was gone, leaving Jack horrified and shocked, with a huge empty hole inside him that he hadn't expected to feel from losing Stark. Fantasies were supposed to be all about lust, not... the other thing. He screwed his eyes tight as the tears of frustration and grief welled up, but opened them when he suddenly felt warm and dry.

Jack blinked, took a step forward and almost passed out when he realized he could barely draw breath. He looked down in horror at the flouncy dress that flowed out several feet in all directions.

"Oh. Oh," he cried, his hands trying to pull at the tight corset that constricted his upper body like some archaic torture device.

"I must say that is definitely your color, Jack. Brings out your eyes."

Jack glared as Nathan stepped out looking every inch the perfect Civil War gentleman in tailcoat, gray silk-sheened waistcoat, white linen shirt and a deep blue cravat. His beard was neatly trimmed and his hair slightly greased to make the dark curls shine. His eyes were sparkling with mirth.

"Shall we dance, Scarlett?"

"Dance? I can barely move." He glared even harder. "And why am I in the dress... again!"

"Would you look as good in this?" Stark indicated his perfect physique in the immaculate clothing, and Jack rolled his eyes.

"You know, Stark, I don't think this ballroom is big enough to contain your ego."

In the next moment Jack was being swirled around in Stark's arms on the dance floor even though neither had made a move towards each other.

"Guess we don't get a choice," Stark stated.

"Oh, I seem to recall you making plenty of choices... about Allison."

The evil glint coming into his green-blue eyes should have given Jack some warning, and next he knew he was being dipped. His fingers scrabbled to maintain a purchase on Stark as Stark leaned over him, face only inches away, lips so close that they were almost touching, breath warm on his face. He flashed back to the _Titanic_ , to seeing Stark slip into the icy water, and the terrible, aching sense of loss. His eyes met Stark's and the irritated gleam fell away as they were both caught in each other's eyes; Stark's irritation was replaced with startled confusion. The sound of the music and the low thrum of other voices faded away until there was just the two of them, locked together. Jack closed his eyes as Stark leaned in closer still, feeling the electric tingle of lips almost brushing before he was in free-fall, crashing to the ballroom floor.

"Wha...?"

"Frankly, Jack, I don't give a damn what you think."

The scene changed as Stark strode away. The constriction in his clothes eased a little but Jack groaned when he realized he was still wearing a dress, and someone who looked remarkably like a heavily beefed up Taggart had him slung over one shoulder.

"Put me down," he ordered.

"Now, Princess, what would be the gain in that. If he puts you down you will try to run away, and then I will have to recapture you, and possibly kill you in the process, and if you are dead then you are worthless to me. If you do not attempt to escape, you might still twist an ankle, or take a fall and die, and once again you become worthless to me. Ergo, it is better if the giant carries you."

Jack tried to follow the twisted logic from a small guy who looked remarkably like the relationship auditor that Stark and Allison were being forced to deal with after they announced their decision to re-marry a few days back. He still had no idea what the outcome of that was, only that both Stark and Allison had both been in a foul mood ever since the guy arrived.

The scene changed and Taggart disappeared, leaving Jack partially trussed up and blindfolded next to the auditor guy as he greeted someone. When the new arrival spoke, Jack groaned because he would recognize that voice anywhere - Stark. It took a little effort but Jack managed to peek beneath the blindfold and saw Stark dressed all in black with a black mask over his face.

In a battle of wits Jack had to admit that he'd always back Nathan Stark to be the winner, though he had managed to get in the last word on the rare occasion - very rare. The auditor guy was slumped over, having drunk poison, and Stark had untied Jack's hands, leaving him free to remove the blindfold. His full sight of Stark left his mouth dry.

The billowing black linen shirt still managed to display a nicely sculptured chest with surprisingly few dark chest hairs, and Stark looked as if he had been poured into the tight, black leather pants and knee-high pirate boots. The mask and head cloth was a farce because he could see the laughing green-blue eyes and the smirk that was barely hidden by the still neatly trimmed beard.

Annoyed, Jack hitched up the long red dress and stomped off, almost grateful for the voluminous material that hid his erection. It was bad enough being caught in a dress not once but three times now, but he knew it would be infinitely worse if Nathan noticed Jack had a hard-on for him. Though knowing Stark, he'd probably ask if it was the cross-dressing that got Jack all steamed up.

"I preferred you in the blue, Jack. But red looks good on you too," Stark quipped.

Jack froze mid-stride. 

"Oh... shut up." 

He turned and gave Stark a hard shove, startled when Stark lost his footing and began to tumble down the steep side of the hill.

"As you wish...." came floating back, and Jack groaned when he realized he had little choice but to go down after Stark, even though he had been tempted momentarily to force Stark to climb all the way back up the steep hill to him.

He lost his footing almost immediately, and ended up tumbling down the hill to fetch up beside Stark, lying shoulder to shoulder in a sprawled heap of red dress. It took a few minutes to catch his breath, surprised that Stark remained silent beside him, though Jack could hear and feel him laughing silently - the bastard.

"I hate you," he stated softly, but they both knew he didn't mean it.

"Twoo Wuv," Nathan murmured, and Jack had to laugh out loud, suddenly catching the reference and recalling why this seemed so familiar. First _Titanic_ , then _Gone with the Wind_ , and now....

"Didn't take you for a _Princess Bride_ fan."

He felt Nathan shrug. "There's a lot you don't know about me, Jack."

"Yeah... You swing a lot of things I don't know about apparently."

He felt Nathan shift, feeling the increased warmth along one side as Nathan leaned up over him. Jack opened his eyes and this time neither of them shied away from the gentle look in each other's eyes.

"What the hell are we doing, Nathan?" he asked softly

"I have no..." Nathan swallowed, drawing back from the intimacy of their closeness. "Trying to find a way out of Fargo's V.R. hell."

"Yeah."

He closed his eyes and felt a shift in the ' _reality_ ' around them once more, sighing in relief when he realized he was wearing jeans, a denim shirt, a thick winter coat and a cowboy hat rather than another ladies dress. A man's arm was wrapped around his shoulder, chest pressed against Jack's back, and he felt the heaviness of a chin resting on his shoulder. Moments later he felt warm breath and the tingling brush of a man's beard against the side of his neck just before soft lips pressed against his skin.

Nathan.

Below were hundreds of sheep, and to one side was a small two-person tent set up in readiness, and Jack knew this wasn't _Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid_ with homoerotic overtures. This was _Brokeback Mountain_. Zoe had made him watch this movie with her only the other week, convincing him it was a cowboy movie right up to the moment when the two guys fucked each other inside the tent. He'd then had to sit through the rest just to prove to his daughter that he wasn't homophobic.

As if, he thought, recalling all his impure thoughts of fucking Nathan Stark through his extremely comfortable, body-contoured mattress.

"No. No," Jack shook his head and tried to pull away, recalling how this tragic love story had ended with his character beaten to death with a tire iron on the side of the road, just for being gay.

This movie had summed up all his fears in his life, for all those times when he'd looked at another guy and wondered what it would be like to touch and caress and fuck that guy. He'd grown up in California, which was a lot more tolerant of different lifestyle choices than most parts of the U.S., but he'd wanted to be a cop, and later a U.S. Marshal, and he hadn't wanted to lose out on that opportunity because he had conflicted thoughts about bedding men. He'd barely passed the entrance exams after all, and Abby had helped him prepare for the interview. It helped that he'd fallen in love with her, with her kooky smile and sass. She was smart and the prettiest woman he'd ever seen, and he didn't regret a minute of those early years - and his beautiful daughter - but the marriage had turned sour when he realized that loving someone wasn't always enough. They had each buried themselves in their work, trying to pretend that the love they had was enough to keep them going - if only for Zoe's sake - but eventually it simply hadn't worked for either of them. They both needed more than the other could give and, even though Jack had formed his first new crush on another woman, he realized while watching that movie that Allison wasn't enough either.

He needed and wanted Nathan Stark. Someone to challenge him, someone strong enough to pin him down on occasion, to make him feel and want more.

"I can't do this," he stated, voice breaking with emotion, and Nathan turned him in his arms.

"Jack," he whispered. "Talk to me. Tell me what you can't do. Let me help you."

It was stupid and risky, and he was opening himself up for a world of hurt, but Jack refused to remain an emotional coward any longer. He reached up and dragged Nathan down into a kiss - deep and hard - putting everything he felt for Nathan into the kiss, knowing it would be the first and most likely the last real kiss they shared. He wanted to know how it would feel just this once before letting go of that fantasy - that impossible dream - and he was shocked when Nathan began to kiss him back.

Somehow they ended up inside the tent, clothes cast aside in their haste to be skin on skin. Jack arched up into the strong hand that wrapped around his cock, willing to forgive Nathan for every snide comment as long as he didn't stop.

the shock of everything ending abruptly made him gasp, and his eyes flew open to find himself back in the laboratory, still strapped into the V.R. chair next to Nathan. Nathan was awake too, looking flustered and unsteady, and beside them Fargo was beaming while Allison's face held a bittersweet smile.

"Welcome back, gentlemen."

***

Jack hid out in his office for the rest of the day, refusing to go anywhere near that madhouse known as Global Dynamics - or at least that's what he told Jo. The truth was far more damaging because he really didn't want to be mocked by admitting he was hiding from Stark - and Allison. He still had no clue if he had shared the same virtual reality with Nathan, or if the Nathan in his ' _dream_ ' was just a figment of his imagination, like when he'd been caught inside Beverly's psychobabble device.

Certainly it had felt all too real, and he still shivered in memory of the ice-cold Atlantic Ocean, and watching Nathan slip from his cold-numbed fingers, and later from the touch of Nathan's hand on him as they writhed naked in the tent. Part of him hoped it wasn't a shared experience because Nathan would never let him live down being the girl on three of the four scenarios - and dressed accordingly. Damn, but Jack could still feel the tightness of that corset around his ribs and waist, making it hard to draw breath. He'd never be able to watch a 'period costume' movie again without having a lot of respect for the actresses wearing those torture devices. 

He was about to pack up for the day and head back to the bunker when he heard the outer office door open. Jack was both surprised and wary when Nathan entered, especially as he came bearing gifts, even if that gift was an extremely large Vinspresso. Nathan set the coffee down on the cleared desk in front of Jack and took the seat opposite, legs spread apart and if Jack didn't know better then he might have thought Stark looked totally at ease. A small tic in his jaw, barely noticeable unless you knew what to look for, gave away Nathan's nervousness.

Jack decided his best course of action was to pretend nothing had happened. Which was the truth really because nothing _had_ happened.

"What can I do for you, Stark?"

"You can start by calling me Nathan."

That startled Jack but he nodded slowly. "O...kay, Nathan. What can I do for you?"

"The engagement's off."

That statement hit Jack like a punch to the chest but he viciously pushed down on the feelings of elation, biting into his lower lip. A week earlier he would have been grinning like a madman, offering trite condolences while he planned on how he could best take advantage of Allison no longer being engaged to Stark. Now he had to hide how much it pleased him that Nathan was the one free of commitments.

"I'm sorry."

"No. You're not." A wry smile tugged at his lips, and Jack realized he hadn't hidden his elation quite as well as he'd believed. "And neither am I." Nathan cocked his head to one side. "Fargo's V.R. was based on Barlowe's."

"Yeah, I had a feeling that might be the case."

"I was supposed to be testing an interactive safety protocol virtual reality. A training program for all Global Dynamics staff to learn the necessary safety and evacuation protocols." Nathan shrugged. "Something I'm sure you'd approve of, Jack."

"Then how...?"

"Apparently he also created a secondary program that he had planned to use on Claudia Donovan, casting himself as the hero. He called it his _Matchmaker_ program."

"And Fargo put you into the wrong program. Am I allowed to shoot him?"

Nathan grinned and pushed to his feet, so Jack stood as well in the belief that Nathan was about to walk away, only for Nathan to round the desk and move right into Jack's personal space.

"I'm not sorry the engagement's off because I discovered there was someone I wanted more than Allison." A hand cupped Jack's cheek. "You."

Jack closed his eyes as soft lips pressed against his, and all pretense fell away as Jack wrapped his hands around Nathan's waist beneath the jacket. The kiss deepened, and this time it was different; no longer a construct of a virtual reality program. It was real, making Jack wonder why he could have ever believed they had kissed before. This was the real world - not a V.R. or a masturbation fantasy - and Nathan tasted of strong coffee and a hint of whiskey, an obvious shot of Dutch courage. Nathan's other hand gripped Jack's ass tightly, pulling them in so close that Jack could feel Nathan's hard erection slotting against his own, separated only by the thickness of their clothing.

He moaned into the kiss, desperate to be closer still as he recalled those last few minutes in the tent and the unsatisfied desire that was now back full force. He pulled back, shaken and disheveled, not wanting to come in his pants like a randy teenager. There was no mistaking what both of them wanted though, and Jack shivered, a flush of desire racing through him when Nathan's eyes deliberately checked him out right down to his toes and back up.

"Don't suppose you want to wear a dress again. The blue one was divine," he quipped.

"Kinky bastard," Jack muttered, but he softened the insult with another kiss; sweet and full of promises for more to come.

Maybe without the corset, he thought.

END

.


End file.
